


Stories

by my_deer_friend



Series: My Deer Kinktober 2020 [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Daddy Issues, Daddy Kink, Humiliation, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, Lams - Freeform, M/M, Painful Sex, Power Imbalance, but with a different Laurens, perverting childhood classics, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26791780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_deer_friend/pseuds/my_deer_friend
Summary: “You have been misbehaving,” Henry says, by way of greeting.Alex flushes and sits up straighter, staring at the bedspread. “Sorry, sir.” He bites his lip and adds, “Only, I was waiting and--”“Hmm.” Henry takes a look around the room and strolls over to one of the shelves that’s piled high with John’s childhood paraphernalia. He pulls out a book. “Shall I read you a story, Alexander?”---(Prompt 3 - thigh riding, Alex/Henry
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Henry Laurens (1723-1792), Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Series: My Deer Kinktober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947265
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	Stories

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by a Tumblr anon who knew exactly what they were in for.
> 
> This story takes place in the [Hold My Tongue](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873909) verse, somewhere between parts 2 and 3.

Henry finds him, again, in John’s childhood room.

It’s the middle of a school day, so the Laurens children are all out, and John has left for a lunch date with one of his old high school friends. Alex gets invited to join, of course, but he begs off, saying that he has a bit of work to catch up on. 

But the truth is that he’s hoping Henry will make the most of the empty house. He isn’t disappointed.

As soon as John has left, Alex slides off his jeans and underwear, and slips into his soft pyjama pants instead. He also lets down his hair, which is something Henry seems to like, and then piles up their pillows so he can lie back comfortably and mess around on his phone while he waits.

And wait he does, because Henry is deliberate and unhasty, and he always times his torments to heighten the risk of discovery - or at least the perception of it.

Just the anticipation alone is enough to make Alex squirm restlessly. He’s been subjected to Henry’s hands once already during their visit, so his itch has cooled, but that just means he’s going to actually enjoy the subsequent mistreatments now that he doesn't just desperately need them to clear his head. The thought of what Henry might have in store sends a shiver down to the base of his spine, and he can’t help fidgeting his thighs together and then sliding a hand down to press against his stirring cock. He sighs a little and settles lower against the cushions, knowing that he’ll get admonished if Henry discovers that he has started on his own but - in the moment - willing to take the risk.

When the door eases open, just a moment later, he gets such a fright that he lets out a choked-off yelp and rips his hand away. Henry steps inside and closes the door, then looks down at him disapprovingly.

“You have been misbehaving,” he says by way of greeting.

Alex flushes and sits up straighter, staring at the bedspread. “Sorry, sir.” He bites his lip and adds, “Only, I was waiting and--”

“Must we review your lessons on patience, Alexander?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No, sir.”

“Hmm.” Henry takes a look around the room and strolls over to one of the shelves that’s piled high with John’s childhood paraphernalia. He pulls out a book. “I disagree.”

Henry walks back over to the bed, and Alex pulls his legs out of the way when Henry sits down and leans his back against the wall.

“Shall I read you a story, Alexander?”

Alex looks at the book cover, which features a cartoon drawing of a strange-looking humanoid cat in a tall, striped hat. “Um.”

“It isn’t a very long one, and it was always Jack’s favourite - goodness knows why. It’s all nonsense, really. But if you can make it through to the end without any further mischief, I will consider the matter forgiven.”

Alex bites his lip and nods. He can sit still for long enough to get through a children’s book, surely.

Henry gives him an amused look, then pats his own thigh. “If I am reading to you, boy, you need to sit on my lap.”

Oh. 

Suddenly the challenge is an order of magnitude harder.

Alex crawls across the bed and straddles Henry’s thigh, facing away from him, just as he is supposed to. Then Henry shifts his thigh up, jamming the hard plane of his leg against Alex’s groin, and forces a grunt of surprise and pain out of him. Henry props his foot on the duvet, trapping Alex in this overstimulating and uncomfortable position. 

He goes from half-hard to fully erect in moments, and flushes red with shame at how quickly this mistreatment has aroused him. But he needs to be patient, or else this will end in even more humiliation for him - or, worse, in being left alone and leaking and unfinished, just in time for John to find him.

He braces his hands on his own knees and takes a steadying breath.

Henry flips open the cover and starts to read. _Slowly._ He lingers over every word, and despite the fairly absurd rhyming phrases, Alex feels himself ease into the sound of Henry’s low, measured voice. It’s meditative, for a moment - a sort of gravelly warmth that he’s only familiar with from TV shows - but of course this is only meant to lull him into a false calmness.

“‘I know some good games we could play’,” Henry reads, and then Alex feels his shirt move. Fingertips appear at the hollow of his lower back. 

He shudders, and his cock jumps right back to full attention. 

Henry’s measured tone does not change as he grazes his fingers up Alex’s spine, delicate and deliberate. A mockery of a soothing gesture. Alex’s breathing quickens.

Henry slides his hand down, then up, then down, over and over at a maddeningly slow pace. Then, his fingers start to drift to one side, until Henry’s palm is caressing him from his shoulder down to his waist and then to his hip. And back up, and down.

Alex is just settling into this new touch when Henry shifts his seat a little and jostles his trapped cock against his thigh. Alex moans pitifully. A little tremble starts deep in his quads as the difficulty of staying still starts to compound with the desire to grind forward. He grits his teeth and grips onto his legs a little harder.

Henry’s hand drifts back to his side, and Alex is expecting another gentle stroke, but this time Henry rakes his nails across his ribs and down his waist, and Alex cannot stop himself from whimpering and trying to squirm away - which just serves to agitate his throbbing shaft.

Henry breaks off. “Ticklish?” he says lightly.

“A little,” Alex admits.

Henry hums, and resumes reading.

But now, his hand travels lower: over his soft pyjama pants, down past his hip and along the outer curve of his thigh, then back up to his waist, and down, and up. Sometimes the fingers drift forward a little, frustratingly close to the tender, arousing lines of his inner thigh or the crease of his hip - but then always retreat again.

The third or fourth time this happens, Alex cannot hold in the quiet groan of frustration, though he instantly realises his error and tries to disguise it in a sigh.

Henry isn’t fooled. 

“Alexander,” he says, lowering the book, “Is something the matter?”

_Yes._

“No, sir.”

“Do you need anything?”

_Yes! Just fucking touch me!_

“No, sir.” This one comes out a little more strained.

“You’re sure?” Henry asks mockingly, pretending at concern as his cruel fingers start to drift around and closer, closer - “A cookie?” - into the hollow of his hip, closer, closer, right to the swell of his groin - “A glass of milk?” - close enough that the shifting fabric brushes his straining head--

“Please, sir!” Alex gasps, as his arms jam tightly with the strain of not moving out of position. The tremble in his legs is constant, now.

“Yes?” Henry asks, all sweetness on the surface and all danger underneath.

“Please--” No. He can’t actually ask for what he wants. That’s not what this lesson is about. He sucks in a breath, drops his voice and tries not to sound petulant. “Please keep reading.”

“That’s my good boy,” Henry says, sounding genuinely pleased, and withdraws his hand. He pats the side of Alex’s thigh affirmingly. “Very good. Now, where were we?” He checks his place on the page. “Ah, yes. ‘I will not go away’,” Henry reads. “‘I do not wish to go’.”

Alex grits his teeth again. He has no idea what’s happening in the story - even if he was able to focus, it sounds confusing and he suspects he needs to see the pictures to really understand it - but he tries to focus on the rock-steady tone of Henry’s voice. 

And it does soothe him, the fact that Henry is perfectly measured even though Alex is twitching and straining and flooded with shameful, anxious arousal. Henry’s voice is a comforting salve, a safe space he does not have to question. Henry’s steadiness confirms that he’s in control, and as long as that’s the case, Alex can surrender utterly.

Henry’s hands, however, are on a different mission.

Again, Henry waits just until Alex has managed to settle a little and ease some of the strain from his shoulder; then, without preamble and in the midst of a slow caress, Henry tugs the pyjama pants down over the curve of Alex’s ass. 

The hand strokes over his buttocks, then up to his lower back, then down again. It drifts down the back of his thigh. Fingers whisper between his legs--

Fuck!

Alex is squirming now - trying fiercely not to move but unable to restrain the tiny twitches in his hips and thighs.

“ ‘And all kinds of bad tricks--’” Henry cuts off. “Alexander! Can you not sit still?”

“I’m sorry!” he whimpers.

“You were doing so well, my boy.” 

Henry’s soft touch is suddenly a tight, bruising grip on the flesh of his buttocks. Alex hisses and shifts forward instinctively, but that just grinds his cock against Henry’s thigh, which drives a desperate groan out of him.

“Please, please, sir,” he whispers. “Please finish--” _Me. Fuck!_ “--reading. Please.”

“Very well. We are almost at the end, but perhaps I should assist you to keep your place.”

Henry’s hand releases his ass and slides to his lower back, but it does not stroke again. Instead, Henry presses him firmly forward. Alex feels the thigh shift up a little closer too, until he is jammed painfully against it with nowhere to go. Every tiny movement, every thud of blood in his cock, every little flex in Henry’s leg is magnified tenfold.

He takes a shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut.

“May I go on?” Henry asks mildly.

Alex nods a frantic yes.

Henry resumes, and maintains that sinful, awful, glorious pressure. Alex thinks he might be reading even more slowly, but he’s only picking up fragments now. 

“-- ‘oh dear, what a shame’--”

He homes in on the sound of the voice and squeezes every muscle in his abdomen to keep his orgasm in.

“--‘this mess is so big’--”

He tries to breathe - steadily, at first, then at all, as his blood pressure ramps up.

“--‘Should we tell her the things that went on there that day?’--”

Fuck! He needs to move, he needs to come, he needs to--

He realises Henry has fallen silent. He tilts his face back questioningly.

“Yes, yes,” Henry says with a laugh, “I am done. You may go ahead.”

The hand pressing him into position does not ease up, but Alex immediately starts to grind and twist his hips forward, flushing red down his neck at how desperate and pathetic his display must look. It’s only a few moments before he is groaning in a heated mix of pain and pleasure - and when Henry puts his other hand encouragingly on the curve of his ass, it takes just a few more frantic thrusts before he is crying and panting and then spilling hotly into his pyjamas. Henry presses his thigh up for a moment, just to make him whimper, then eases his leg down.

There's a heavy moment of stillness, then--

\--a distant sound of movement in the house below.

“You’d best go and get cleaned up,” Henry observes.

Alex is still catching his breath; his warm flush of pleasure chills quickly into panic. But, even so--

“Sir?” he asks quietly. Henry has, after all, not been thanked.

Henry parses the question. “Oh, unlike you, Alexander, I have no trouble being patient,” he says, all threat and promise. “I will summon you later.”

Henry pats his ass to signal Alex to climb off him, and stands up when Alex hauls himself onto his shaky legs. Henry drops the book on the rumpled duvet, then looks down at the stain spreading on Alex’s pants. 

“Filthy little thing,” he says fondly. “How will I ever teach you to contain your lustful urges?”

Alex looks down at the floor and bites his lips. There are footsteps on the stairs.

“Run along,” Henry instructs, ruffling his hair, and then slips out of the door.

Alex dashes off into the bathroom. He rinses his soiled pyjamas off and dumps them in the hamper, then gets in the shower just as he hears John enter the bedroom and call a greeting. He shouts that he’ll be out in a minute, and quickly scrubs his sticky semen off his groin and thighs. When he towels off, he realises he’s forgotten to take fresh pants with him, so he cringes and grabs a dirty pair out of the laundry basket. No underwear. He’ll just have to make do until he can slip away from John later.

He emerges, and catches John sitting on the bed with the book in his hands. He’s looking down at it with a fond, wistful expression, but turns to Alex when he hears him approach.

“Were you reading this?” John says with a laugh.

“Er.” Shit. He didn’t think to put it away in his haste to deal with his filthy state. “Um, I got bored and just pulled it off the shelf. Something about cats?”

“Wait - you’ve never read it?”

“No.” This is, technically, true. “Guess they didn’t have it back home.”

John grins. “Oh, it’s awesome! Total classic. I loved it as a kid, and I must have made mom or Henry read it to me a million times.” John shifts back onto the nest of pillows and pats the bed next to him. “Come lie down,” he offers with a smile, “And I’ll read it to you.”


End file.
